I could scarcely bear it. “Gavin, please,” I managed to say.
His head lifted and I could see so much conflict there. Did he think it wasn’t safe? That I could get pregnant again? “I’m still on the shot. I never stopped.”
He closed his eyes and I knew he was thinking about how I was on it before, and it hadn’t mattered. We’d been on the wrong side of every statistic. Less than a one-percent chance of getting pregnant. A heart condition that was one in four thousand.
His hands moved up my thighs, both thumbs resting against me, setting everything on fire.
“Some things just aren’t in our control,” he said. He spread me wide and his tongue flicked against me and then I couldn’t think of anything as the world shattered.
I grabbed the sheets in handfuls. His hair tickled my belly and I zoomed into the next plane of pleasure so fast that I couldn’t have stopped him if I wanted, his mouth so hot, the shuddering of my body already taking me into the past, when we’d been like this constantly, greedy, feasting like the banquet would never end.
He worked every part, tongue and lips and fingers, and then my body vibrated around him, and I let go of the sheets, my fears, the past and present, just rocketing into that shower of sparks.
Gavin knew just where to take it, and how to bring it down, pulling away gently, carefully, as my hips rested back against the bed. He pressed his face into my thigh, holding on to me, and I wondered if he would decide not to take this all the way, to spare the risk. And I couldn’t bear it, I wanted it too, to see him lose control, to fall into me. I rolled over and got to my knees, tugging at his shorts, pulling everything down, boxers and all. I clutched at him, hot and throbbing between my fingers, making sure he couldn’t let it go, couldn’t resist.
I pushed him on his back, settling over him in a position that was so familiar. My hair was falling out of the pins and cascaded around his face. Before he could move or talk or do anything to stop me, I lowered myself down on him, sliding over him like slipping into cool sheets.
His fingers gripped my hips and I leaned down to kiss him, controlling the rhythm, taking his hands and pushing them over his head so that he was mine, control was mine, and I worked him, steady and deep.
Gavin’s breathing sped up. I thought he was about to lose it when his arms broke free and he grabbed my waist, twisting me around and beneath him.
I gasped as he plunged into me, fierce and passionate, his face hovering over mine, the hula lamp undulating light against his hair. I was lost again, his hands on me, kneading all the soft parts and reaching between us. I didn’t think I could go again but he led me there, rising up to meet him, and by the time he held still inside me, a long shuddering groan crashing over my ears, I was back, the world shattering around us, gasping for breath.
We came down in degrees, his body settling on mine, then shifting over to pull me against him. I never wanted to stop touching him, couldn’t bear to think of him walking away again. I felt suddenly that it would happen, that we’d be forced apart, and this second loss would kill me. I tried to escape the grief, to revel in the moment, but I knew we had dark days ahead. Nothing between us had been easy for a long time.
“Shhh,” he said, knowing as he always did when I was upset. “Just be here. Just be now.”
I nodded against his shoulder. I could do that. I had to. Looking ahead or glancing behind were both too hard. We had right now. It had to be enough.
Chapter 23: Gavin
Corabelle needed to invest in some blackout curtains.
I crossed my arm over my eyes, trying to block the unrelenting sun. Corabelle’s hair was draped all over my shoulder and chest. I was pretty sure it was the best feeling in the world. Okay, second best.
Her eyes were closed, her lips slightly parted. She breathed deep and even, like a kid. I wouldn’t take this night for granted or assume it meant we were back together. I knew her moods could shift, and besides, I’d been a chickenshit. I could blow these good feelings sky high.
The clock behind her had giant red letters alerting me that I had 45 minutes to get out of bed and be at work. I didn’t have a shirt. When Corabelle’s text came through, I jumped on my bike without so much as a wallet.
Even so, I settled back down, relishing the moment. I’d showed up late more than once. I shouldn’t push Bud, not after he’d moved me to mechanics, but damn it if I didn’t want to stay right here a little longer.
Corabelle shifted, stretched, then her eyes flew open in alarm. She was about to jump out of bed when she seemed to realize where she was. “Oh!” she said. “That’s right.”
I understood her disorientation. I woke up several times in the night, not sure of the year, maybe back in high school and the little apartment we got so little use of. “You okay?” I asked.
She nodded, then twisted to look at the clock. “Holy crap!” She sat up. “I was supposed to be at work fifteen minutes ago.” She jumped up and I had to admire how her boobs jiggled. She turned in circles and I got every view while she tried to figure out what to do first.
She tried running her fingers through her hair, to no avail. “I’m a mess!”
“Just call them. Tell them you’re on your way.”
Corabelle seemed only then to realize she was naked, and yanked the sheet off the bed, exposing me.
“Hey!”
“Sorry!” She was about to put it back when I waved her off.
“No, it’s fine. This is highly entertaining.”